


What Is Drama.

by m_number24



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Confession, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:03:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2559023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_number24/pseuds/m_number24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wondered what it was he was feeling. He wondered why he was all uneasy and tense and fidgety and—<br/>Oh fuck it, who was he kidding, he knew what this was .</p><p>He shut his eyes tight and let out a frustrated groan.</p><p>This was going to be a long night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is Drama.

When Stiles had told Derek how he felt, it wasn’t in any dramatic way that would put anyone to tears. There wasn’t a certain moment where one of their hearts skipped a beat and there was most certainly no background music of any kind. No one cried and there was no kissing under the rain nor any shouting and sobbing.

None at all.

  
When Stiles had told Derek how he felt, it was merely through text. And really, it was more of a slip than of a planned confession.

They were having a simple conversation about how the people they tend to like seem to be unusual and weird; if not just weird, someone purely mental or psychotic.

It was light and somewhat hilarious but there was one text Stiles hadn’t gotten to check. He was probably too sucked in the moment that he didn’t even notice what he’d already typed and sent.

Derek had been talking about Stiles’ huge, obsessive crush on Lydia. He was going on and on, asking what he plans to do next and how he was going to ask her out. But Stiles, Stiles knew he was over Lydia and he reacted out of instinct. He had rolled his eyes and gave out a, “pssh.”

 

_**> dude lydia's got jackson and i got you** _

 

Honestly, he hadn’t noticed he sent that until he read Derek’s reply which was a simple, “Oh.”

 

_Oh._

 

Stiles thought that he’d leave it at that. 

Personally, he was a fan of just ignoring a problem until it eventually goes away, you know?

He was totally chill, psh. He's good at that stuff.

He’d just try and ignore the fact that he practically told Derek that he was his Jackson. No biggie.

Then when he sees Derek next time, he’ll pretend that that text was casual and something light. He’ll smile it off and shrug like hey, _I totally didn’t just confess my undying love_ _for you or anything._

Things would be normal and neutral and safe.

And he preferred it that way. He preferred stocking those feelings, hidden at the back of his head and locked in his chest, in a way where he wouldn’t talk about it anymore. And when it would finally reach its peak, he’d snap, freak out but that’s it. After the freak out, everything would seem fine again.

Repeating, he preferred it that way, alright?

But...

This time, when he tried to push back the fact that he’d practically told Derek how he felt about him, it would always come back to his range of thought. He wasn’t freaking out though which would mean that he hadn’t reached his peak. Or has he?

Stiles lay down on his bed, staring at his ceiling. He felt jittery and restless but not in a way where he was panicking.  
It was more of an itch; an itch to do more. Like what he did wasn’t enough.

He wondered what it was he was feeling. He wondered why he was all uneasy and tense and fidgety and—  
 _Oh fuck it,_  who was he kidding, he knew what this was .

He shut his eyes tight and let out a frustrated groan.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

When Stiles had asked Derek out, there weren’t any flowers or love songs. There wasn’t any kind of serenading or poetry. Again, there wasn’t any moment under the rain or any moment where the wind would blow and everything would be in slow mo. No one’s breath hitched and there wasn’t any hint of shyness or hesitation.

None at all.

When Stiles had asked Derek out, it had been approximately seven hours since his accidental confession. And Stiles knew it was a stupid idea to call at 3 am but somehow, he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t do anything but think and stare at the ceiling for the past few hours and at that time, it’s like he had made his mind up on the decisions he was ready to take.

It took two rings before Derek had answered with a clear, “Stiles?” which would indicate that he was still wide awake.

When Stiles had asked Derek out, he didn’t say those exact words. He didn’t ask if he wanted to be his or if he could be Derek’s. He didn’t ask if he’d like to go for coffee and watch a movie.

 

Instead, his first words were, “I wouldn’t do anything you wouldn’t want to do.”

 

His voice was even and slow paced.

“I won’t force you into feeling anything or doing anything that you’re opposed to or would make you uncomfortable and weird.”

 

There was silence.

 

Stiles took that as a cue to continue.

“I’d do anything you want, alright? Just say the word and we’ll do this—whatever you want this or _us_ to be. Or just say the word and I’ll stop, and it would be like nothing happened.”  
And Stiles? Stiles meant all of this. Meant every word he said and he was sure he’d follow them.

Because he knew Derek had been through a lot. Because he knew about Jennifer and he knew about Kate and he didn’t want to be that, he didn’t want to be them. He’d never be them.

Because this was Derek he was talking about. Derek whom he’s realized to be one of the most gorgeous people in existence and whose smile was worth the whole fucking world. Because Stiles would do anything to hear his soft, strained chuckles that he try to hide and see the crinkle on the sides of his gleaming, unusual-colored eyes. Because Stiles wants that for Derek and he wanted Derek to be with him and—

 

“I want to.”

 

If it was possible to physically explode in joy, Stiles’ body would have been in pieces at that moment.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry. Bored. Quick fic. Um, thank you.


End file.
